- will drink your coffee/tea and make a grimace for you because “there’s too much sugar here, pet”
- call on your phone in the middle of the day to ask what’s the name of the song you were listening early, because now it’s stuck in his head
- wakes you in the middle of the night just because he remembered the thing he wanted to tell your earlier but couldn’t remember
- put both hands between his thighs when he’s watching a scary movie, for safety of course
- tries to persuade inanimate objects to do things in the way he want, like when the printer is too slow and he tries to convince it to be faster, as if it could hear/ answer him
- still get nervous when he has to talk with your father, calling him Mr and Sir all the time, even after your father said that it wasn’t necessary
- pull you to sit on his lap while he’s talking on the phone, kissing and biting your back/neck/shoulder while you giggle
- say “who yeh’re smiling at?” while you scroll down on your phone as fast as possible so he won’t know that you were smiling at the pics of him with his fans in his last trip
- put a pillow under his shirt while you complete your nightly routine, rubbing his belly, looking at you and saying “see? I’m having your baby”
- Do a weird medley of songs while he sings in the shower, going from “twinkle twinkle little star” to “woman” and finishing with “isn’t she lovely?”, always thanking the ‘audience’ for having him
- hold you from behind after you shower and says “I’m gonna smell yeh till all the perfume fade away”
- will braid your hair while you’re siting between his legs on the floor, reading out loud a old poetry book he found in a book fair
- tries to twerk when he’s sure that no one is watching
- put his cold hands on your neck just to see your body shiver with it
- has a smug smile on his face after he listened to you talking with your friend and saying how much you love him and how good you feel when you’re with him
- pouts deeply when he’s thinking about something important and you feel the need to kiss the
wrinkle on his forehead, making him smile with that
- get embarrassed when you start to poke his dimple and teasing him about how pretty he is, and how seductive his dimples are
- loves when your mom tell him stories about your childhood, asking for her if he can take some pictures of the little you - in a bath, playing with a pink ball - with him, saying that if you don’t let him sleep on your arms tonight, he’ll post them tomorrow on twitter
- cries every time he watch “The Notebook”, hiding his face on your neck and asking you if “yeh’ gonna love me till I get old? Even if I don’t remember who yeh are?” as you promise him that yes, you’ll always love him, no matter what
- smiles embarrassed when you look at this hands and say “ omg harry you’re naked!” because he’s without his rings™, hiding his hands behind his back
first, sorry for taking so long do to this! it’s been months since you asked me and i was procrastinating as usual. second, thanks to @theheadcanonsawakens (ridicula) and @stylishmuser for helping me! i love you both very much a lot!
Summary: (Modern-Day AU)Bucky lost his heart to you. And every time you two meet, he tries to seek it back. -Mini Darbble Series
Word Count: 1,522 (okay not exactly a drabble)
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warning: none, just some floof
A/N: sorry for throwing another series your way. but i was just in the mood of writing some floof, since i never write enough floof. i hope you like it! as always, leave me some nice words to read! aslo, maybe drabble for me might be between 500-1,5k words. :P
The words Harry once neglected before were now imprinted in his mind, not leaving once you did. It was those simple words he knew not to fuck up ever again.
He knows how you are. He knows what you meant by those words. He knows that by what you said, it didn’t mean that you want God to forbid you from being tired physically. He already knew you are every day.
You meant that you didn’t want to get tired in the aspect that you were more than ready to give up. Harry knew how well you could keep up because he’s seen it before.
And God forbid you get tired of him.
There was a thought that appeared from his sub-conscious, making him almost jump in his seat in response of how much he hated it, his large hands gripping his hair.
Alcohol isn’t advisable nor recommended at the moment. It wouldn’t help his case and he knew that exactly.
You though of it too. But minutes later, you found yourself sitting next to the mini refigerator your room has with a beer in hand, putting a bill on the counter with a note because you didn’t want to be like one of those obnoxious guests.
The floor and the beer’s cold, and so is Harry’s flat. He didn’t want to call it home because you weren’t there with him and so was he mentally to be even considered as one.
“Can I call now?”
Harry’s hands were shaking, his thumb reaching out to press ‘send’ along with his hand that reached for your blanket you used to wrap yourself in whenever you were waiting for him, squeezing it.
It took every bit of Harry to stop himself from hurling objects across the room. He’d close his eyes and breathe deeply, until your words of “Self-control, love.” came into effect. He admits that he doesn’t have the longest of tempers and the highest dosage of control.
His attention is fully fixed on his phone now, another pang on his chest when he saw your reply.
He specifically told you not to put periods at the end of your messages because it scared him. Maybe it’s the changed meaning every time there’s a punctuation, maybe it’d the formality.
And right now, he has every reason to be.
“Don’t get tired on me yet. You’re not going to get tired, you’re not. You’re not tired.”
Harry muttered the words once you accepted the call, not letting a single second going to waste since he precisely has 300 of it.
He’s slowly losing his right state of mind without you by his side. He was so used to being tolerated for the way he is that he forgot how to not feel when it was the other way around.
“It’s not for me to decide but I’m trying to influence you to it. The only time you’re going to be tired is when we’re gonna take care of our future kids. You’re only going to be tired when you’re out of breath not because of a fight, but from something we both like.”
Harry’s tears were pouring involuntarily with him not having any control over it, the hoarseness of his voice slightly hurting his throat from speaking faster normally than how he did.
“You’re only going to be tired when we’re packing bags to go on vacation and on tour. You’re only going to be tired from jet lag and lack of sleep and not from us. The only time you’re going to be tired is when we fight with our kids and that’s it.”
The hurt in his chest was starting to get unbearable now, the grip on the blanket to the point where his hand was going numb and his knuckles going white were getting the best of him.
His voice cracked, completely letting go of his ego and his pride, a desperate plea coming from his lips he’s willing to repeat if that’s what’s going to make you agree.
“You’re not going to get tired on me, Y/N. And that’s final.”
He used up a minute, being scared of the remaining ones because those are the last moments he’s going to hear your voice for that day.
“I know I haven’t gave you the best of reasons to not be, and I know that. I do. But love, please listen to me.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
His heart skipped a beat when he heard your voice since he didn’t expect for you to talk, he knew silence was the only thing you could muster in times like these.
“I’m trying to make you come home.”
“Is there home?” you asked in a whisper and ended with a harsh tone in your voice.
His grip loosened, opening and closing his hand repeatedly until he could feel the warmth go back to his veins again.
“Do you love me?”
Harry felt rigid, a cold shiver down his spine from what you asked because he never thought it would come to this. He never thought that you would ask him for confirmation if he still loves you because at moments like this, there was no other choice.
You leaned your head against a cabinet which made you let out a cry, not because of the pain but because of what he answered, an angry cry coming out of your lips that alerted Harry, sitting up straighter.
“Then why the hell did you do it?”
He felt his breathing come shallow, his gaze going elsewhere that didn’t make any sense.
“Because I only thought of myself.”
Maybe you were too selfless that you put Harry on top of your priorities that you weren’t on his.
“Because I wasn’t thinking.”
You remembered all the nights you would greet him by the door with a hug he’d reciprocate half to, ignoring the pain it caused because you love him too much that it hurt you.
“Because I wasn’t thinking of you and I deeply regret that.”
You spilled too much over the tipping point of your rock-bottom, the pain being overwhelming that you were momentarily numb from it until he spoke again.
“There isn’t anyone like you. And I’d rather not have the chance to find that out because I’m not going to take any.”
His voice was stern yet still gentle, a tone on his voice that you barely heard these past few months.
“I’m selfish; I know. I do know that. I’m selfish when it comes to having you because I just am.”
Harry breathed in deeply, his tears decreasing and so is his voice.
“I may not be the best at all things. But I know I’m selfish when it comes to having you because you make me feel like I am. And Y/N, I love that.”
He was starting to get calm now but not too much that he was confident of having you again since he didn’t want to jinx it, a tentative look on the door.
“Please come back here. I know — I know that I don’t hold the many promises that I make but I swear to God that this is real.”
He closed his eyes, wanting to desperately feel you by his side.
“You are my home.”
The phone dropped, making Harry almost break down right then and there and doubt himself that he didn’t try hard enough. That maybe he was too stupid to take you for granted and have this result.
He was so close to hurling his phone against the wall but no, he decided against that because he’s going to call you tomorrow. Maybe he’s going to call you so he put it down again, an uneasy look on his face.
Minutes or hours passed since he wasn’t sure of it passed and he spent the majority of it crying. He didn’t know why but he chose to relive by the words you told him and how broken you looked. He didn’t know why but it pained him to realize that he’s going to be the only one to do that to you.
He doesn’t know whether it’s a privilege or not.
And so, just as he felt to break the rules and let a friend track your call, the door opened.
You were there standing, a moment of realization hitting you from the moment that you ended the call is that you wouldn’t have it either way.
You’d rather be hurt because of Harry than to not at all.
He stood up instantly, taking careful steps towards you before it sank in him, hugging you so tightly and closely that you could feel his tears streaming down on your neck.
He cried onto you, heavy breathing filling the aie as you let him do it, your arms wrapping around him which made him more than grateful.
He whispered the words, but still loud and powerful enough for you to hear and to be inked forever into you.
You knew it later on by his song, yet it was the most precious to him since it held the most meaning to him, and so did it on to you, letting him convice you to get the title inked onto you, still in the meaning where only he gets to know.
Hi babes!💘 this is a smutty oneshot about the reader ignoring Tom when she gets an idea for a new painting, and Tom only wanting to gain her attention more! A small argument and sexy time ensues! I hope that you guys like it!👼🏻
When Tom had come home, he’d found her with her hair tossed messily into a bun, stains of color smeared across her skin, and standing in front of a rather large canvas dressed in an imbrued art smock. The smock in which his girlfriend sported was backless, and Tom was delighted to find that she was wearing nothing but a pair of sheer, pink panties and bobby socks beneath it. He not only had a clear view of her legs, but her bum as well, and there was absolutely no way Tom thought that he would be complaining about anything when she was in such a state, but, there he was, complaining.
“Baby,” Tom whined, flopping into the nearest chair to her, “pay attention to me. I’ve spent my entire day missing you and now you’re barely even speaking to me.”
She sighed, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips, scrutinizing the piece of art in front of her. Crossing the room to mix together a concoction of red, pink, silver and white paint to create the perfect rosy tint, she answered Tom. “You know that I’m not trying to ignore you, I love you. It’s just that I think I may finally be breaking through the weird mental block I’ve had for a while.”
Tom nodded, understanding that she supported his artistic expressions, so he would have to buck up and support hers. It wasn’t as if he was unhappy with her painting, in fact, he was the exact opposite. He was thrilled to see her final product, and he loved seeing the spark of imagination light up her eyes, but as Tom said before, he missed her so much. Their time together had always been limited and he was jealous that her painting was receiving more attention than he was, considering that she could spend a million and one hours with her painting at her leisure, but she had maybe 90 something hours with him .
She plopped down into Tom’s lap and kissed him on the cheek, “you can mix the paints if you wanna.”
Tom held the spatula that his girlfriend had handed over to him, and did his best to focus on following her directions, while defying the feeling of his girlfriend in basically squirming around on his lap while she glided her soft, warm lips up and down the base of his throat in between her orders.
“Can I see what you’ve done so far?” Tom asked, curious as to what she was even painting.
Her kisses paused briefly, and then started up again between the words she said, “No! You can only see once I’m finished. I want it to be a surprise.”
Tom groaned, “is this good?” he motioned the colors he’d mixed. When she nodded, she made sure to turn her head to press a heavy, hot kiss to Tom’s lips before she hopped off of him. Sliding a hand down his face, Tom got up to leave the room. If he’d stayed there any longer, the images of her bending over in next to nothing would make him too hard to bare, so he decided that while she painted, he would busy himself with whatever nonsense that he came into contact with.
It had been a day and a half since her art project began, and since then, Tom had learned how assemble both a dresser and a cabinet, fixed every leaky faucet and broken appliance in her apartment, and had perfected a few random recipes he’d stumbled across on the internet. He was going out of his mind.
As time went on, she became even more and more appetizing to him. She was passionate and focused and Tom was, at that point, hard. No matter how many hot showers, cold showers, or even baths he’d taken, it wasn’t enough for him. Tom felt that if he didn’t have the real her soon, he’d burst into flames or melt into a puddle of sticky goo that would stain her carpet.
A few hours later, he heard the pitter patter of her socked feet rushing to meet him in the bedroom. Laying across her bed, Tom rolled over onto his side and peered at her smiling face when she entered the room.
“Tom, I need you.” She said, a blissful expression warming her features.
He quirked a brow at her, “oh yeah? What for, my darling, little love?” He looked her up and down, taking in the paint soils splashed all over her body, the exposed skin of her legs, her lack of bra, and hoped her response would indicate that she needed him to take her.
She rushed forward and knelt down by his bedside, taking his hand in hers, “help me with the painting, I’m just about finished.” She kissed his knuckles and laid her head onto her mattress.
“I thought that I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was all done?” Tom said confusedly.
“I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind. The painting needs your special touch!” As she got up off the floor, still holding his hand, Tom could think of more than a few things that could use his special touch.
When she finally brought him to a stop in front of her painting, Tom understood why she hasn’t allowed him near it. He could tell that the figures trapped within her canvas were lovers, even though they appeared to be more similar to florets than people. All the colors were soft and romantic, and he could see that she had added a tinge of shimmer to particular images, so the painting looked mystical and otherworldly. Truth be told, if he’d gotten anywhere close to it earlier in the day, he would’ve messed it up.
“Darling,” Tom breathed out, desperately trying to figure out how to express the level of his admiration to her, “I just don’t know how you manage to be so fucking magical all the time. It’s beautiful, I love it, but I’m afraid that me just standing this close to it will ruin it. Unless you need me to lift it, I don’t know how to help you.” Tom bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, moving to tuck some of her untamed fringe back behind her ear, where he couldn’t help himself but press a kiss to her earlobe as well.
Tugging his mouth back down onto hers, she mumbled in between long kisses, “help me just fill in a few spots, then it’s yours. I read somewhere that if someone helps you complete a task, the task, or in this case, the painting, will make that person think of you.” She broke away from Tom for a brief moment, and Tom heard her airly whisper into the crook of his neck, “I wanna make you think of me.”
Tom’s eyes opened and he guided her body away from his, “what are you talking about?” He was so genuinely puzzled that his confusion took the place of his desire to have her until the sun came up. “I always think of you. Literally, always. Ask anyone I work with, I never shut up about you.”
“Okay,” she said, disbelief laced firmly into her tone. Grabbing a paintbrush, she leaned into Tom to kiss him again.
“No, no, baby. Honestly, do you not believe me?” Tom was growing so perplexed that he was starting to get angry. “I love you, do I not tell you enough or something?” He knew that he was being abrasive and slightly over sensitive, but he didn’t know why she was playing as if Tom didn’t care for her.
Groaning, she walked out of Tom’s reach and back to where she stored her varying paints. “Tom, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Uhm, nope. I’m going to worry about this because I’m pretty sure that this is something most couples in a healthy relationship would speak about.” Tom said, moving to stand in front of her.
“Let’s not do this,” she said, pushing her art smock’s strap back up to it’s proper place on her shoulder.
“No, no, let’s!” Tom declared.
“Tom, no! There is literally no point to this argument, if you don’t want to help, it’s cool.” She stood onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of Tom’s unprepared lips. “See? It’s all good,” she said, going around Tom and back to her mostly filled in canvas.
“Please, can you just talk to me, darling?” Tom wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her body to him as tightly as he could without crushing her. “I love you and what’s important to you is what’s important to me. So please, please clue me in.”
The girl didn’t even need to turn around to feel his puppy dog eyes burning a hole into her back. “Fine,” she said shortly, “when ‘Homecoming’ drops, you’re going to be huge, bigger than you already are. Like you’ve said before, life is going to change and nobody can say for sure what will and will not change, only that there will be changes, and if life makes you go away, at least you’ll have this painting. At least I’ll be remembered as the girl who painted you the weirdly rosy painting.”
Tom was so stunned that he couldn’t think of one appropriate thing to say. “Are you serious? Sounds like you’re pretty sure you know what’s going to happen with us, huh, smart girl?” He knew that getting mad wasn’t going to help the situation, but his feelings were hurt that she thought he’d drop her just like that.
Removing his hands from her body, Tom turned, “fuck it, that is so irritating. I am not leaving you, and unless you plan on ditching me, I think that we’re going to be together for more than a long while, darling.” He sneered, pacing back and forth across the limited space her living room provided. “This is ridiculous, you’re so intelligent, so why you’ve gotten that into your head, I have no idea. I’ve made sure to factor you into nearly all aspects of literally everything I do, now why do you think that is?”
She knew that she was being dumb, but she couldn’t help it. She was so paranoid that Tom would be out one day and he would come across someone shiny and new, and then he’d realize that being with her was not what he wanted anymore. When she started her painting, her only goal had been to give Tom something that would leave an imprint of her in his mind, so that no matter what happened with them in the future, she would still be apart of him.
Her eyes grew glassy and tears threatened to boil over her waterline and smudge her mascara. She was mad at herself for being so insecure, and for possibly ruining her relationship with the one thing she’d meant to sort of bandage over her issues, and she couldn’t come up with a statement to justify herself to Tom.
Tom looked over to her figure, standing in front of the pink canvas, frilled bobby socks and lacy blue panties in all. Even though he was both pissed off and taken aback by her behavior, Tom couldn’t deny the urge to just slam himself into and make her understand she was the only person on the planet for him. Muttering, “oh, for fucks sake,” Tom marched purposefully over to her and smashed his lips roughly down onto hers.
Yanking her hair out of it’s rubber confinement, he broke away from her to watch it tumble down in waves to frame her face. Forcing her to look into his eyes by pressing a finger beneath her chin, Tom practically growled, “I am not going anywhere without you in my life. It’s like they say on that one soap opera that never seems to end, you’re my person. Couldn’t leave you to save my life, I’d come back to you forever.” He looked into her eyes, trying to find better words to make her understand that he was completely and utterly dead serious. “Get it?”
Her lips were puffy and her skin was still soft, despite being nearly every color of the rainbow and Tom was going to rip that smock off her body if it was the last thing he did. He could tell that she was humiliated that she let her paranoia get the best of her, and Tom, for a brief thought thought that she deserved it for thinking so lowly of their relationship. He only stopped once he took into account that if the roles were reversed, he’d be a snivelling mess of a human being because she was an angel among humans. He didn’t deserve her, but then again, surely no one else did either.
Tom’s grip on her calmed and he lovingly pried the paintbrush out of her hand and shuffled her around in his arms so that she too faced her masterpiece. “We’re going to paint this together,” Tom said, as his hands began softly untying the knot of her smock. “I’m going to continue thinking of you always and forever, even though you’re still going to be my girl and I’ll still be undeniably yours. Got it?”
Her eyes fell shut and she gasped when she felt Tom’s mouth press adoringly wet kisses to her exposed shoulders. She arched her back as one of Tom’s hands moved to the front of her body to knead her breasts. Blinking her eyes open, she saw that Tom’s other hand was still clutching the paintbrush and that he was currently dipping its tip into a circle of paint. “Answer me,” Tom ordered, sinking his teeth into her skin.
“Got it, got it, got it,” she rambled out dreamily. “Gonna be your girl forever.”
Maneuvering her slightly so that his view of the canvas would be clearer, Tom began to paint the little empty spaces she’d left for him with long brushstrokes. “That’s right sweetheart, my girl forever.” Switching hands, Tom held her to him with the hand that was also holding the paintbrush, and yanked the closest chair in arm’s reach over to where they stood. Sitting down, Tom guided her around to face him before pulling her onto his lap.
Her cheeks were rosy from a mix of blush and paint and her lips were parted and her chest was heaving. Her gaze flicked up and down Tom’s body so obviously that he had to smirk. Forcing her closer, Tom brought his hips closer to hers and watched as she subconsciously leaned into him, bracing her hands on his chest.
She shuffled a bit further onto his lap, so that she was aligned perfectly with the bulge in his jeans. Letting out a gasp, her hips bucked against him and she bit down on her lip to prevent another louder gasp from escaping.
Tom’s arms constricted themselves around her, one went around her waist and the other tangled itself into her hair. “I think the painting is finished.”
Not even turning to look, she nodded, breathing out a response so faint that Tom couldn’t even make it out. She slid a hand under Tom’s shirt to trace over the lines of defined muscle on his stomach. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I don’t know why my head makes me think things like that.”
Tom kissed her tenderly on both cheeks before placing an even softer kiss to her mouth, “it’s alright, darling. I don’t know why I got so mad before. I honestly don’t know how my head would make me think if our roles were reversed.”
“I’ll love you forever,” she said, rolling her hips onto Tom’s lap.
“I’ll love you for some time after that,” Tom chuckled, his hips beginning to meet hers. “But don’t take my word for it,” Tom began to litter kisses up and down her throat while he reached up to untie her smock, “let me show you how fucking much I love you.”
“Okay,” she said, her lips covering Tom’s as his hands tore the art smock from her body. Their hips collided as their clothes became one with her floor, and the rosy painting in front of them was to be hung and framed in the apartment that they came to share.
Summary: You’re on your period and Dean does his best to comfort you
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, some swearing, light smut(???)
You laid in your room with your legs pulled up to your chest and your duvet pulled over your body as you felt like your uterus was destroying itself. The room was pitch black aside from the light coming from your laptop screen where The Walking Dead was playing. Your period cramps were never really this bad as they were usually just a series of mild cramps and mild bleeding, but this time your cramps felt like hell and you had already bled through two tampons in three hours.
When the episode finished the screen went gray as Netflix asked if you were still watching. You then reluctantly pulled your hand from the warmth and comfort of your blanket cocoon to tell Netflix that you were still watching. You closed your eyes slightly as the assault of cramps continue. The only thing that you wanted at the moment was to cuddle with your boyfriend, but of course, he was helping Sam research a case.
Dating Sebastian Stan Would Include
- He teaches you some words and phrases in Romanian.
- You retaining the Romanian curse words he teaches you.
- You two are space nerds together.
- Singing duets together. Poorly.
- Staying up late together and doing weird things.
- Styling his hair for him and him reciprocating.
- Inside jokes.
- Lots of takeout.
- Being each other’s plus one.
- He’s a gentleman.
- Constant sarcastic banter.
- Frequent romantic gestures. (i.e. Bouquets of flowers delivered randomly, handwritten notes, him cooking you dinner)
- Helping and supporting each other.
- He’s not the jealous type because your relationship is built out of trust and he knows that no matter what the circumstances he has nothing to worry about.
- Having the kind of relationship that everyone in your friend group aspires to have.
Warnings: Smut NSFW
(This is my first attempt at smut as always feedback is appreciated)
Dean had just walked out of the bunker in his grease stained
jeans and black t-shirt he always wore when he was going to work on the car.
You told him yesterday that you heard a weird noise coming from Baby yesterday
when you were riding in it and he decided to spend the day trying to find the
source. Little did he know you had a plan for today and it wasn’t watching him
work on the car all day. He laid down on the creeper seat and rolled halfway
under the car. His lean muscled body was sticking out and his shirt had risen
up and you could see a sliver of his toned stomach above the hem of his jeans.
You smiled to yourself and stood up from where you were sitting and walked
quietly over to him. You placed your feet on either side of him and leaned over
toward the engine. Your outfit of choice was a jean mini skirt and a blue
button up blouse with no underwear.
Before he could get his hands dirty you said “Baby can you
come out here for a second there’s something I want to show you.”
“Y/N I just started…” His reply died when he rolled out from
under the car and saw straight up your skirt. You could almost feel his eyes on
you making you wet. After a minute you feel his hands caress your calves and
trail slowly upward. He softly massaged his way up to your mound but before he
got to close his hands started moving back down. You groan in frustration. You
were so wet and so ready for him and yet he wasn’t giving you what you wanted.
Suddenly he removed his hands and started kissing his way up your left leg.
When he reached your apex he blew on it sending shivers down your spine.
“So wet. Is this all for me?” He lightly brushed his finger
over your folds. The moan you let out was answer enough.
He brushed over your clit and you screamed “Dean!”
“Mmmm that’s it baby scream my name.” He said rubbing your
clit a little harder and faster. He removed his hand and you let out a whimper
before you felt him spread your legs a little wider and run his tongue from
your hole to your clit. Your legs were already shaking when he inserted one
finger inside of you licking your clit roughly. You could feel your orgasm
coming fast. Dean knows you are getting close and sticks a second finger in
your dripping pussy. He feels you start to clench and latches on to your clit sucking
and licking pushing you over the edge. He sticks a third finger in prolonging
your orgasm. With shaky legs you move so he could get up not missing the
sizeable bulge in his jeans. He looks at you smiling as he stands.
“Y/N there’s nothing wrong with baby is there?”
You smile coyly “Nope not a damn thing.”
“Well in that case I know what I want to do the rest of the
day.” He lunges at you “Come here you.” He throws you over his shoulder and
heads toward the bunker after smacking your ass once.
It had all started in the 2nd grade, when Harry Styles pushed Y/N Y/L off the monkey bars during lunch time recess.
It had resulted in Y/N breaking her arm and Harry, in a panic, fleeing the scene like nothing had happened and leaving Y/N there to cry on the prickly bark chips. After 7 year old Harry was confronted by the teachers, he remembered what his older sister had told him when it came to adults: deny, deny, deny. He got off the hook that day, much to Y/N’s anger. That was ten years ago.
Y/N didn’t hate a student more passionately as she did Harry. Harry didn’t even have a reason to hate her so he resorted to teasing her and picking on her, whether it be throwing out sarcastic compliments to squeezing her sides to get her to yelp. Y/N hated it but Harry? He loved it.
“Lookin’ good today, love!” Harry whistled as he passed by Y/N and her group of friends.
She glared at him and called out, “Fuck you!”
“Time and place!” He responded, carrying on down the school halls with a smirk on his face.
During their shared French class, they were apart of the same table group but Y/N would never talk to Harry, sticking to talking to the other two kids at their table.
He would pass her notes in French while a lesson was occurring, aiming and throwing it to her face.
“Tes yeux, j'en rêve jour et nuit.”
I dream about your eyes day and night.
Y/N would look up at him, no hint of a smile anywhere on her face and scribble on the back,
“Ferme ta gueule.”
Shut the fuck up.
Every rude joke he attempted, every sarcastic compliment he tried would be shut down by her, as she was having none of Harry Styles’ bullshit.
It was one day, Y/N was walking down the halls of her high school, holding the attendance sheet she promised she would deliver to the office. Classes were in session meaning the halls were empty and vacant, her footsteps echoing down the walls.
As fast as it happened, the janitor’s door flew open and out reached a hand on Y/N’s hoodie, dragging her in without another sound.
“What the hell!” Y/N screamed only to have a hand fly to her mouth.
“Shh! Ya’ don’t want the principal to hear us, do you? Don’t be daft and keep your voice down.”
“Harry I swear to god—!” She argued, smacking his hands off of where it still clutched onto her mouth.
The janitor’s closet was dark and dusty, all the scents of cleaning chemicals mixing into one big, disgusting disinfect smell. The room was cramped, forcing Y/N and Harry nearly chest to chest with each other.
“Move from the doorway and let me out.” She rolled her eyes, attempting to scoot him to the side. But Harry meerly took her by the shoulders and planted his lips onto hers.
Y/N made a sound of surprise, scrunching her eyebrows as she felt Harry work his mouth on hers, occasionally sucking in her lower lip between his.
Harry Styles had not only broken her first bone, but also taken her first kiss.
“I can feel your heart beating.” He said with a smile, lifting only a centimeter off her mouth to speak. When she didn’t reply he cupped her neck, allowing her to shove him away but when she didn’t, he pressed short, stagnant kisses to her lips.
“Are you okay?” He whispered, using his thumb to stroke her jaw line.
“I mean — you just randomly pulled me into the janitor’s closet to make out with me — how am I okay?”
“Do you want me to stop?” He answered with a low voice but she shook her head much to his delight.
“Is this your first kiss or sommat?”
“Well it was.” Y/N rolled her eyes.
“Aw, how fun.” He grinned. “Let’s make it memorable then.”
A/N: This piece was written for @randomdancer17 as it is her birthday today (go send her nice messages!!) … A while ago she mentioned how she wanted something that surrounded Perfect by Ed Sheeran so I hope it’s what you wanted Em!!
This also matched a little with this request. Fair warning, I hadn’t edited this yet but leave some feedback here … Oh one more thing, this is the first installation to my “The Five Times” Series - this one is also called “The Five Times Harry Dances With You”
His foot always began to tap at the right song.
Even at a young age Harold would sway to every chime and
bass that penetrated the walls of his home whenever his mum brought out her old
vinyl player. He’d dash into the room grabbing at her hands as his weight would
lift him up and down and up and down to the beat of the rhythm. He liked the
way his mum would laugh at his dance moves, mimicking him to join the fun –
which he had to admit felt rewarding since his sister would often complain
about his pigeon-toed feet.
When little seven year old Harry found out he was going to
his first wedding he was quite excited to say the least. His head nodded all
the way through the church and into the reception hall. There’s a live band
playing and he couldn’t wait to find the dance floor and pounce around with his
Warnings: A LOT OF DIFFERENT MYTHOLOGY BECAUSE IM A SUCKER FOR IT. (im trying to keep the mythology true to who they are not only with their WWE personality, but the gifted beings I think would fit them well).
A/N: Hey guys! I got the idea for this fic after re-watching THISvideo, creating the summary out of thin air, and then downloading an entire Celtic Mythology book. I know I have a few other two parters I need to finish but I’ve had this in my notes for a long time now and it needed to be shared! I hope you all enjoy!
me, my aunt’s cake is almost as bad as that was,” Peter exclaimed
mockingly, while the two of you exited the Chinese restaurant of
of you enjoyed fast food, whether it was Chinese, Mexican, or
something else, so it wasn’t anything strange for you to just choose
a random restaurant for your date. You decided to check on every one
of them in the quarter Peter lived in, and it resulted in a variety
of unusual experiences. You were certain you would never again step
foot in the one you just left. The strange taste their food left on
your tongue was enough of a warning. Who knows what they would bring
you next time?
that was just a simple chicken!
I wonder what they would do if we ordered something more
complicated,” you shivered in terror at the mere thought of that
pretty sure we wouldn’t survive that. Or at least you,” he
laughed at your expression.
Anyways. Otabek kisses Yuri for the first time and after the kiss they stare at each other, until Otabek realizes what he has done and starts blushing and says ‘‘I’m sorry, Yur-’’ then Yuri suddenly embrace him before he finishes the sentence and whisper ‘‘Do not apologize..Please, say you wanted and like it..’’. Otabek replies with ‘‘I didn’t like it’’ Yuri looks up and stare at him then he continues ‘‘I loved it.’’
Chapter Summary: As much as you attempt to keep out of the Saviors’ way while they raid Alexandria, your daughter decides to have a word with Negan.
Pairing: Negan x Reader
Prompt: You live in Alexandria with your very sassy daughter, Riley. After Negan takes over, Riley grows to be the one and only person that challenges him - and to say the least, he loves it.
Word Count: 2.1k
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Warnings & A/N: so basically halfway through writing this i realized the daughter was giving me Lilo vibes - so if you could imagine, she’s very much like Lilo :) | no warnings
“Where’s Maggie, Mommy?” your daughter’s high-pitched voice met your ears as she stumbled down the hall. You turned to her, closing the book in your lap, “She’s not here anymore, she - .. ‘moved,’” you stuttered. Technically, you weren’t lying. After the run-in with the Saviors, she would be better off, and much safer, not in Alexandria.
Pairing: John Laurens x reader Word Count: 1,664ish T/W: Smut!! A/N: Based on Anon’s Request “Could you do a John x reader smut fic where you like tease him all day (like wearing something hot, flirtatiously touching him, etc.) and he finally gets sick of it and smut ensues but you decide to be the dom and he can’t touch you and he begs and stuff.” Tags: @justfangirlingaround ✨
“Come on John, how do you not get it?” you asked, rolling your eyes.
“I just, I don’t get it! What did I do?” John held his hands out.
“Really? You looked fuckin’ great and yet you ignored me all day, that’s a tease John! Especially when you nonchalantly brush a hand against me, and then you leave to go hang out with the guys! Do you have any idea how sexually frustrating that is?”
“No? I guess you’re just more easily turned on.” He argued back.
“Wha-me?…You know what you’re right, you’re right, my bad.” you played along, thinking of a very cruel game you could play.
That night he thanked you for seeing his side and dropping the argument. You said of course and kissed him goodnight. Tomorrow was going to be so much fun…